


Love Hurts When You Do It Right

by voxane



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American setting, Bartender AU, Escort, M/M, Slow Burn, more tags to be added as this runs away from me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxane/pseuds/voxane
Summary: “I’m not open.” Duh, it wasn't even fucking eleven. Yuri figured he was the only pathetic fuck trying to get drunk already. “I just thought you could use a rest.” Christophe’s eyes softened, the color seemed to dull just a bit. “Did you run away? You’re not here on purpose.”A self indulgent bartender AU. Yuri isn't from around here, and he doesn't have much. He learns about life, love and making it fucking work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is greatly inspired by Boxwineconfessions' [Heart Break Beat](https://archiveofourown.org/series/717030) and Blownwish's [Cities in Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/series/749775) (which if you haven't read either, I can't recommend enough!). AU's that have some color and personality and truly are brought to life by something so special and personal that it was inspiring? I really wanted to take a stab at those feelings. This has a lot to do with my own feelings of being lost as fuck in a town I transplanted myself into. This is very self indulgent and written in bars and coffee shops just for the feeling. It's based on a real place, with things twisted and exaggerated for story telling. I sincerely hope you enjoy this trip to Manchester. If you have any questions on what's real or not let me know. Thank you!

Yuri sighed. The weight of his backpack felt 20 times heavier than it actually was. It was probably some metaphorical bullshit about ‘emotional baggage’ over what little was actually packed. He at least hoped his repressed feelings weren’t squishing his Jimmy Choo’s. Sure they were from H&M but designer was designer right?  
  
He had no idea where he was even going. So much had happened in the past 48 hours and he was moving so fast that he still felt like it was all a fever dream, that none of it actually happened. But the cracked vinyl of the bus seat scratching him through his leggings made him very aware that it was far too real. Grandpa was gone. He was evicted. He pawned off the old clunker for five hundred cash. It was all he had at this point.

Rapid fire thoughts will filling his head and he had to file the good from the bad as quickly as they came up. Necessities first. He needed a place to sleep. He needed a way to pay for it. He gazed out the window as he drifted by identical brick apartments. They were too square and uncanny. Maybe he could go door to door and beg. Maybe he could dig out the Jimmy Choo’s and turn a trick.

Except he looked like shit. He fucked with wrong people in Hartford. He knew better, but there was an opportunity to swing out his anger and he took it. He wasn’t a fighter. It was probably stupid to start tonight. He should probably thank the bus driver that stopped and gave him a chance to bail. Yuri was slumped between tired souls getting off third shift jobs that probably didn’t pay them nearly enough. At least he wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep tonight.

“Man you look like _shit_.” Yuri wasn’t a fighter, but he sure was getting into the spirit with everyone trying his fucking patience tonight. His face wasn’t so swollen he couldn’t glare at this asshole.

“Woah, sorry dude. I was trying to say condolences. I know how rough nights are.” He stroked his stupid, shaggy beard. Yuri said nothing in return. He wasn’t really in the mood for small talk when he was well rested and caffeinated. He was definitely not in the mood with a sore jaw and sagging bags under his eyes.

“I’m honestly lucky I don’t look like you. I had a super weird night. You see I had gone home with this girl, yeah? Well her brother totally lost his shit. He tried to push me down the stairs but he was like, not trying or not good at stair-pushing or something. It was an awkward tussle hug thing? Anywho, I ended up making out with him and I got kicked out-”

“I’m really not interested.” Yuri cut him off with no remorse. The idiot just laughed.

“Fair enough!” That was not what Yuri was hoping would happen. He was really done talking. “So what’s your deal?” The stranger apparently was not nearly done talking as Yuri was. He bit the side of his mouth until he got the hot metallic sensation of tasting blood. The man across from him said nothing. He had a stupid grin and expectant eyes.

“Some douche touched my ass. So I punched him in his fucking teeth. He punched harder.” Yuri wasn’t so sure about being so candid, but he was too tired to think of a way our of this. This seemed so much easier. The stranger stroked his beard and nodded. Like he was interviewing Yuri for the world's most depressing job and he was giving him exceptional answers.

“Been there. Well, the getting punched part. Not many people feel me up.” He shrugged. Yuri almost snorted, he couldn't really because his nose was so jacked up. At least he could say that getting the shit kicked out of wasn’t a completely regular affair, not that didn’t happen but he was much better at getting out of the shit he started.

“Where are you headed?” Fuck he was chatty. Yuri wanted to tell this guy off so bad, but he couldn't keep the look of disappointment off his face. He had been sneaking on to different buses all night trying to figure out where the fuck he was headed. It was 6:57 in the morning and he didn’t know any better that he did 12 hours ago.  
  
“That’s rough, buddy” The stranger lazily gazed out the window. “You hungry? I’m getting off at the next stop and there’s the _most incredible_ breakfast place.” His dumb smile somehow gets wider. “It’s not much, but it always makes me feel a little bit better after a shitty night.”

The buss hissed as it jerked to a stop. The stranger got up and tilted his head to tell Yuri to follow. He didn't have any other plan. Or money. Or food. So Yuri followed. 

They walked in silence, single file on the side of the road. Despite wearing worn out sneakers, Yuri stumbled over the uneven dirt and grass that they were using as a makeshift sidewalk.

“I know you don’t give a shit,” Yuri couldn’t help but smile to himself. It was the smartest thing this guy said all day. “But I’m Emil.” He was right. Yuri didn’t give a shit. He didn’t respond, but stared at the back of his head as he expertly handled every bump and dip on their path. He was completely unphased by the cars whizzing by.  
  
Emil stopped at a small plaza that Yuri felt like someone would describe as ‘quaint’. Yuri never had to use the word quaint before. There was only a handful of mismatched restaurants and a laundromat that didn’t seem to be open. The parking lot was full for whatever _was_ here.

“Right here.” He motioned to the the left side. “Cosmic Omelette. Everything there is amazing. Can’t go wrong. The pulled pork omelette, it has some cutesy name, whatever. It’s my favorite.” Emil shuffled through his pockets and pulled out something in a closed fist.

“Here.” Emil pulled at Yuri’s arm, which gave no resistance, and dropped a crumpled twenty in his hand. “My treat.” Yuri looked at him like a child who learned a new fact that they didn’t completely understand yet.

“Why? You’re not going to get anything out of this.” Yuri gripped the crumpled bill as if he was expected Emil to change his mind after he pointed that out. He only laughed in response, and Yuri defensively furrowed his brow.

“I dunno man. I do dumb shit.” He slid his hands back in his pockets and smiled. Like that was a reasonable answer.

“I gotta get some sleep though. I’m supposed to be at work in....fuck, 7 hours? Good luck though.” Emil waved him off as casually as he engaged talking to him in the first place. Nothing about any of this made sense. Especially in juncture with the night he had. Everything has left him light headed and heavy bodied.

Breakfast sounded good though. 

* * *

  
Yuri walked in and the energy level he met was not what he expected at all. The place was weirdly busy for a Tuesday. The walls were painted in loud yellows and reds that fought with muted brick on the outside. There was a mish mash of things on the wall, paintings and kitschy garbage. Half of them were labeled the name of the local artists (which was a generous term in Yuri's opinion) underneath. There was a dayglow green piece of a cat with neon eyes and matching cheshire grin that Yuri couldn’t take his eyes off of as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Just you, hun?” Yuri snapped to look at the plump woman in front of him. She had spackle texture make up and smiled at him uncomfortably wide. She had cherry color lipstick on her teeth.

“Yeah.” It came out more somber than Yuri meant for it to. But it’s still sinking in that it is ‘just him’. He had purposefully kept moving to so he wouldn’t dwell on it.

“Right this way” She ushered him passed the bickering families and groups of hungover girls to a small ‘bar’ that peered into the kitchen when tittering waitresses weren’t scooping up hot plates.

Yuri was handed a worn menu with a hand drawn cover. It had a crude drawing of what seemed to be an alien riding a cocratrice? Yuri did not think about it too hard. He had so much going on he really didn't have capacity for something so inane. 

“Drink?” This waitress was much younger than the woman who greeted him. She didn’t wear any makeup and the exhaustion was plain on her face. She was not trying nearly as hard as the others. Yuri immediately liked her the best.

“Coffee. Black.” Yuri matched her low energy tone and she only nodded before walking away. He looked down the stained carpet beneath him that had some gaudy space print on it. Everything in this place was a little too bright and a little too loud to be comfortable. It did nothing but stoke the fire of cacophony in his mind.

When he got his coffee, it went down his throat uncomfortably thick, burning his insides the entire way. He visible shuddered and the waitress smiled at him.

“Yeah, no. I feel the same way. Don’t worry about it I didn’t even charge you for the sludge. What can I get you to eat?”

Yuri hadn’t even touched the menu. “Uh,” he stalled, trying to remember what Emil had recommended to him. “The pulled pork omelette?”

“Miss Piggy’s junk in the trunk." God that was a stupid fucking name. "White toast good?” She didn’t stop scribbling on her notepad when she turned to Yuri. He just nodded. She returned the motion and turned on her heel. Yuri appreciated the business like transactions. He was a little worn down and there was too much energy vibrating in this place to begin with.

Yuri wished for nothing more than to be thankful that he had some food to eat but he couldn’t keep the ‘what next’ from pushing its way to the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t ride buses away from his problems anymore. He knew that when stood firmly on the ground next to Emil. He made this choice. He had to find his ‘what next’ in this town. The reality of that made the coffee burn like acid in his gut.There was no turning back and he had to own his choice and blind trust there was something for him here.

The food was just as delicious as Emil said. 

* * *

  
Yuri wandered down the main drag and it did nothing for his uneasiness. Time seem to have forgot this town. All the buildings down the street were lined with the same sun worn brick of the plaza he was just in. He peered into corner stores in gross pea and mustard tones straight out of the 70s and coffee shops with very minimalistic and modern decor. It made as much sense as anything else that has happened to him today.

Yuri drank in the scenery and tried to digest and process a plan out of anything he sees. And no matter how hard he wracked his brain he couldn’t think of any kind of next step. He was half tempted to get on a bus again. Keep running as if the next small town he ended up would gift him a flower crown stepping off the bus with a complimentary house and job. Yeah fucking right. He stopped in his tracks and just stared at the sidewalk. He had no idea what the hell he was doing.

A soft exhale drew his attention. He sees a man down a side street in dress slacks smoking a cigarette. He was the only soul that Yuri has seen so far that wasn’t constantly moving. The faint smell of smoke makes his throat tighten with want and desperation. He had some change from Emil left over from breakfast in his pocket. He made no time to get up in the taller man's space.

“Lemme buy a cigarette off of you.” Yuri spoke gruffly. The other man had saucer eyes that seemed to sparkle naturally and showed no sign of being affected by Yuri’s intimidation tactics. He pulled a pack of Virginia Slims from his back pocket. They were a little delicate for Yuri’s taste but he wasn’t about to complain. Yuri was fishing through his pockets while the over man waved at him with a limp wrist.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man's voice was whiskey thick and syrup sweet. It put Yuri on edge, but he took the cigarette nonetheless. He let down his backpack onto the sidewalk before lighting it and taking his first drag.

Yuri could feel the weight of the world slide off his shoulders with his deep sigh of an exhale. Exhaustion set in and he felt so dizzy he had to lean against the building behind him. Yuri let his head roll back. The sky was oppressively grey and overcast. The air was stagnant and thick even without the smoke.

“It looks like rain.” The other man spoke plainly, punctuated with a blink of his long eyelashes. Yuri thought they looked fake and tacky. 

“Excellent observation, Christopher Robin.” Yuri kept his head tilted back, speaking in a flat tone that was probably undeserving of someone he just bummed a cigarette off of. The other man just glowed.

“I looked just like him as a boy. I even dragged around a ratty Pooh Bear.” He looked at Yuri like he was a close friend he hadn’t seen in ages. Yuri couldn’t help but look skeptical because it was weird as fuck.

“Come inside. You’ll get soaked. I’ll get you a drink.” Yuri felt a raindrop on the tip of his nose and he could feel the heat near his fingers of cigarette burning low. He took one last sharp drag before tossing the butt into the street. He scooped up his bag and followed the tall man into the building he was leaning against. He looked around to figure out where he was being ushered into, he noticed two things. A worn sign that proudly displayed “Main Street Pub”, and a tiny orange poster in the corner of a large tinted window reading in obtrusive bold letters “APARTMENT FOR RENT”

* * *

  
The inside was as rough and plain as the outside. It really didn’t suit the grace and exuberance of the man who seemingly worked here. The lighting was a little sad and dim, but the bartender made up for it twofold with his energy. It was too much for Yuri right now.

“Anything you want.” Yuri wanted to flinch at his smile. He was actually content with the dismal vibe. But the man didn’t break eye contact with Yuri as he washed his hands under the bar. It was uncomfortable to have him at face level.

“Isn’t it kind of early to drink?” Yuri inspected the multi colored liquor bottles mostly to avoid the bartenders gaze. Putting alcohol in his body was probably an objectively poor choice and Yuri was positive he’d absolutely regret it. But it sounded so good and he craved it once the idea was put in his head. Yuri scanned the chalkboard on the wall for any drink specials that dime a dozen pubs like this always had.

“ _Barbies Dream House E-Tini?_ ” God _that_ was a stupid name. Yuri’s tone was thick and incredulous. He gave the bartender the most unimpressed look and he simply laughed in response.

“I work on the specials myself.” Of course he did. He clearly wasn't insulted, as he grabbed a martini glass from under the counter and started pouring liquids into his shaker. He took Yuri’s question as an order. Or maybe he just wanted to prove to Yuri that his drinks were more than dumb names.

“Does anything in this fucking town have a regular name?” He had to ask. “Or is everything this _quirky_?” The bartender let out a quiet laugh. Yuri felt like he should count his blessings that this weirdo dealt with his attitude. He knew most people wouldn't (and didn't) tolerate him. For all intents and purposes Yuri should be kicked the fuck out. Despite all this Yuri never made an effort to change. A cocktail was placed in front of him that was a sickly shade of pepto pink. It literally glowed in strobing shades and the rim was dipped in coarse, crystalline sugar.

“Christ. Let me guess, this is your favorite?” Yuri examined the beverage in front of him, not bothering to mask his apprehension.

“You know me so well already, dear-” Yuri took a harsh swig of the gaudy drink and couldn’t help but make a face.

“Fuck, that’s sweet. Jesus Christ.” He took another sip anyways, avoiding the anticipating gaze of the other man. “My name is Yuri.” He stated it plainly. The bartender smiled.

“Dear Yuri.” He drawled, the name pouring out like simple syrup. “I’m Christophe Giacometti. I own the place.” Christophe's eye scanned the worn and dark wooden fixtures of the dim bar. Yuri wondered if he was saying it just to affirm it himself. Yuri followed his gaze across the room.

“It doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s a recent development.” Christophe had no malice in his voice. But he looked straight through Yuri. “You take what life gives you, no?” He made eye contact with Yuri again. For the first time Yuri noticed the small creases around his bright eyes.  
  
“Fucking tell me about it.” Yuri muttered and down the rest of the saccharine drink. He didn’t enjoy it, but he hoped the sugar and liquor would numb his sense just a little bit. “What the fuck are you doing serving drinks at 10 in the morning anyways?” Yuri set his martini glass definitely.

“I’m not open.” Duh, it wasn't even fucking eleven. Yuri figured he was the only pathetic fuck trying to get drunk already. “I just thought you could use a rest.” Christophe’s eyes softened, the color seemed to dull just a bit. “Did you run away? You’re not here on purpose.”

Yuri stared at the changing light in the isolated plastic cube in his empty glass. The soft colors strobing seemed to match the throbbing in his jaw. Yuri was so fucking tired. He ran all could. He tried to smoke and drink these feelings numb. But he was just left with a jacked up face, a burning throat, an empty glass and the realization how incredibly fucked up this night had been.

Heat burned in pricks behind his eyes. Yuri screwed them shut. He was so mad at himself. He couldn’t cry. After everything that’s happened the only way to make everything worse would be to cry in front a stranger. He took in a shaky inhale, and opened his eyes just in time to see a tear plop in the bottom of his empty glass.

Yuri sobbed. 

* * *

  
He told Christophe everything. How he used to live near Boston with his grandpa. How sudden his death was. How he used to go to art school, but had to drop out to help with bills. How he worked doubles almost every day at the shittiest diner and made a shit ton more money selling weed in the parking lot. How fucking scared he was when they lost the house, and how he didn’t really even understand it all. How in a knee jerk reaction he grabbed everything he could and literally ran away from it all.

Christophe listened. He listened intently only moving to replace Yuri’s empty martini glass with pint of water. He even gave Yuri a hug. Yuri would never admit that he hugged back. Yuri wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and Christophe knew this was something that they wouldn’t speak of past this point.

“Diner, huh.” Chris mused, as he reached to scratch his well trimmed facial hair.

“Of all the fucking things you latch on to, that’s what you choose?” Yuri grumbled, but there wasn’t any hint of anger in his tone. But really.

“I was just thinking.” Chris blinked at him with those unreasonably long lashes seemed to imply so much. “It’s not quite the same, but I need another bartender. Right now it’s just me and the other girl and-”

“Absolutely.” Yuri blurted out. “I’ll do fucking anything.” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded, his pride was all but thrown out the window at this point. He told himself so much earlier that begging was going to have to be on the table to make it. He dug his nails into the lip of the bar.

“The sign.” Yuri made himself look Chris straight in the eye. “About the apartment.” Chris tapped a finger to his cheek a couple of times. It made Yuri so fucking anxious.

“It shouldn’t be an issue if you work full time. You’d have to deal with me, but you’d have the spare bedroom to yourself.” Yuri nodded furiously. Much like anything else that had happened to him tonight (today, he kept correcting himself mentally. He'd been at it for so long.) it didn’t make sense. But finally something was working out.

“Wait, you live above here? It’s not just part of the lease?” Yuri had seen small family restaurants or corner stores in this style. Tired parents ushering kids back up stairs so they didn’t both customers, or putting them to work doing what they could. It was a weird thing that blurred the line between business and family. But it seemed odd for a lone man as young as Christophe to be living by himself above a bar. Yuri was acutely aware of the creases around Christophe's eyes deepening. He offered Yuri a distant smile.

“We’re not too different Yuri. I’m not here on purpose.”


	2. Chapter 2

Christophe seemed to have the habit of waking to god awful pop garbage. It always blared through the paper thin walls of their apartment waking up without fail. He hadn’t been here long but he already stopped setting an alarm on his phone. Not that he got out of bed. He’d toss and turn deep into the second chorus of _Run Away With Me._ He’d probably stay in for the next 2 tracks if Christophe didn’t knock on his door. Yuri let out an exaggerated groan, which meant Chris was welcome in.  
  
“Come on Yuri, you said you wanted to stretch with me.” Yuri groaned again. He did say that. And he cursed past Yuri to fucking filth for putting present Yuri in this situation. Yuri would hear Chris get up every day to do some dumb stretches to pop drivel. Apparently it "put the right foot forward in the morning". Yuri wanted just a taste of that feeling of positivity, but he wasn’t sure there was _anything_ positive about crawling out of bed before ten.  
  
“Just...give me a minute to get my life together.” Yuri leaned upward, mashing his palms into his sleepy eyes. He barely heard the softest noise of recognition from Christophe before he softly padded away. All of that softness was shattered as he warbled off key to the _fucking awful song_ and Yuri could not rest easy any longer and kicked his sheet off of him. Yuri didn’t walk with the delicacy of Chris and he could feel the entire apartment vibrate as he stomped to the bathroom. He spent a few minutes in there until he finally fought with his hair enough to deem it acceptable, he could look out into their kitchen-cum-whatever the fuck this space is area with a frown.  
  
“Would it kill you to invest in a pair of pants, Giacometti?” Chris had on what had to be the Guinness Book World Record for shortiest shorts, and wore them completely unapologetically. Chris returned the sentiment with a pinch to Yuri’s behind, which Yuri was already far too acclimated to along with the pop music and abysmal singing.  
  
“I could say the same to you _Plisetsky._ ” Yeah, sure, Yuri wore leggings most days of the week. He doesn’t have the time or fucking money to restore his wardrobe to it’s former glory. Not that he wore a ton of pants when he did have clothes. Chris even admitted that he’d never hire anyone unless they had a killer ass, so Yuri had his genetics and these heavily discounted designer leggings to thank. Allegedly, the Plisetsky ass was infamous where it was known. Or so he heard.

Chris had already moved into his lunges without ceremony or really even a heads up, so Yuri simply scrambled to match him in form. His body was still limber from the years of dance, even if he was regrettably out of practice. He could certainly keep up with Christophe. Hell, the whole reason he was doing this is he _wanted_ to dance again. He missed the thrill of something so purely physical and natural. He also missed doing something something that was so honestly fun for him without any chemical aftermath.  
  
“It’s Thursday” Chris was switching poses, and Yuri was still dazed in his deep lunge. Normally he’d give Chris shit for stating obvious shit, but it was clear that Yuri wasn’t even in the same mental realm. “You’ll get your first ‘real’ day.” Chris leaned into yet another position, this time Yuri with him enough to match him in time.  
  
The first ‘days’  had worked it had been pretty disconcertedly dead. It was mid week, not the biggest bar scene but it still twisted a knot into Yuri’s stomach if this was going to _work._ But he tried to focus on all the recipes Chris had quizzed him on, and Yuri had passed with flying colors. He knew how to make shit, one of his favorite hobbies was to hang out at bars and make older boys buy him drinks. Yuri never thought that what he retained from that would help him out for an actual _job._ Chris thought he was a natural, but he also said his other bartender once served a dark and stormy with a can of Yuengling, so the standards didn’t seem to be sky high.  
  
“A lot of my favorite customers come in on Thursdays. Not just the college kids, the kind that make the make living like this worth it.”

Anyone who saw Chris's apartment knew exactly what he meant by living ‘like this’. He had a long necked lighter that stayed permanently on the stove next to the only burner that worked. He propped open his windows with random boards that weren’t even close to consistent in size. Yuri’s not even sure where he could have found them. They spent their morning yesterday wandering around to find another chair, because Chris never had a need for more than one, and they ended up killing Chris's slims in the time it took them to stumble across one. Nothing in Chris’s apartment matched and was mostly collected off the street. Yuri was no exception to the rule.  
  
Chris’s phone interrupted the mood they were stewing up with an obnoxious ad in his shitty Spotify playlist. It was such a slap in the face because it was an ad for fucking _Cartier._ If they couldn’t scrape together 10 bucks a month between the two of them for unlimited the music, did they really think they’d drop 10 grand for a fucking bracelet?  
  
“Wouldn’t it be ‘worth it’ to, I don’t know,  have friends _and_ designer?”  Yuri said, lazily dropping into a split while he waited for Chris to finish fussing with his phone. He smiled as he tapped away.  
  
“Reach for the stars, _minou_.” Yuri rolled his as Chris placed himself next to Yuri, beckoning for him to pull him into a stretch. Yuri obliged, even though the stretch was far too deep for Chris’s tiny shorts.

  
“I have a name you know. You’re not wooing me with french.” Yuri did want to reach for the stars. Maybe not dropping grands at a time on designer jewelry, but he wasn’t going to really have walking around money just working at Chris’s bar. They fed themselves, yeah, but what next? He had to do more than just _survive._  
  
“Come on minou, don’t be so grumpy.” Chris reached out with grabby hands to pull Yuri into the same stretch he was just in. “You’ll worry your hair thin. I don’t want you end up looking like Victor. Don’t tell him I said that.” Chris winked, Yuri hated it.

“Hey, Chriiiiiiis!” A shrill voice cracked through their air, Yuri did his best not to completely jolt up. Chris was decidedly nonplussed. “Put some pants on and come down here! I’m early _and_ I have coffee so you can’t fire me!” Chris laughed way too loud, and _way_ too close to Yuri’s ear.  
  
“In a second babe, I’m coming.”

* * *

This bar didn’t suit Christophe. Neither did his shabby apartment. But if there was one thing that did suit Christophe around here, it was Mila motherfucking Babicheiva. They were a tour de force of energy and sass and Yuri could barely get a word in edgewise. She literally gasped when she saw Yuri, almost dropping her tray of coffees. Chris must have told her about him because she definitely had 3 cups.  
  
“Chris he’s _beautiful_ where did you get him?” She scooped up Yuri right off the ground and lifted him as high she could, holding him way to tightly to her chest.  
  
“Holy shit, put me down you hag. He didn’t _get_ me anywhere, I’m not his fucking pet.” She laugh as she dropped Yuri’s kicking form on the ground, and turned straight to Chris.

“I like him.” They even had the same taunting smile and Yuri groaned.  
  
“This must be your other bartender.” Yuri said eyeing her. She basically posed for him. “Didn’t you say she didn’t know how to make an old fashioned?” She fucking _smiled_ in response.  
  
“Yes, but everyone loves her dearly. Makes a killing in tips. She’s also helping me with the interior design of this place, Give it a little more luster, you know?”  
  
“It is depressing in here.” Yuri mused, his eyes raking over the the dull wood of the walls.  
  
“Speaking of working on this place,” She trotted over and gingerly placed herself on the last bar stool at the corner, it wobbled visibly even with her delicate touch.

“Otabek said he’d come after work to fix junk.”  
  
“Oh thank goodness. Bless that boy, the sink isn’t draining right again and nothing I’ve done has worked.” Yuri almost strained something rolling his eyes.  
  
“You’ve literally done _nothing_ , oh my god.” Yuri spat. Mila laughed, uncouthly loud.  
  
“Of course he didn’t Yuri. The last time Otabek came _he took off his shirt._ He’s divine, looks like a model.” Even Chris was borderline swooning, just at the memory. These two were a piece of work. Not that Yuri could really judge. He would KILL for a handsome man to walk in and fix his fucking life. But this wasn’t a god damn porno and he knew that there wasn’t anyone who could fix him.

* * *

 

The day went slowly until the sky started to melt into watercolor orange. Yuri had tried to teach Mila drink recipes, but she was much more invested in the colors of wall and if reupholstering in leopard was _too_ much. Yuri thought it was cool as fuck. He was sure that they could win Chris over on it. Eventually. Chris eventually let her go home, after the few groups of art school kids that were dedicated enough to come for Thursday drinks came in left. They weren’t kidding that they loved her. He’s pretty sure none of their drinks were right, but they all tipped well and even blew her kisses on the way out. Yuri tapped his finger a little impatiently.  
  
The groups came in less and less often. For awhile it was just a part of three. They were too vivacious for Yuri. One kid who would run over to Chris whenever a song was _so good_ , and would thank him for putting in his mix. Another who was taking pictures of anything and even asked Yuri for a selfie but he was just...not comfortable with that all. They had another friend who was small and fairly quiet. Yuri liked him the best because he didn’t bother him. He thought that most of the ‘adventure' of the day was gone until the he felt a _physical breeze_ from the door opening so hard.  
  
“Chris, darling, it has been so _long_ .” The man that came shattered any kind of silence by basically kicking the door in. Yuri was surprised he didn’t tear the flimsy thing right off it’s hinges.  
  
“Victor, you were here just last week. You’re here every week. Are you going senile in your old age?” Victor shoved a hand to his heart, looking so dramatically scandalized while Chris chuckled and started mixing something for him. Glassy and deep rose, delicately poured into a long stemmed glass. Of course this dramatic fuck ordered a cosmo.

“But I have _news_ Chris, it’s different! Things don't’ happen all the time,” he stabbed an orange rind with a toothpick so it would hold the shape of a heart. Gross.

“Don't make that face Yuri, when you make Victor’s cosmo you _have_ to do the heart! That’s what makes it his.” Yuri didn’t even try to hide the fact he rolled his eyes.

“You have a Yuri too, what are the odds! Chris, it’s fate! Our fates are intertwined!” This motherfucker had stars in his eyes.

“He’s my new roommate Vic. Shaping up into a really decent bartender too. He’ll be a real help with Mila’s school schedule.”

Yuri was really not used to this. He wasn’t the kid people fawned over, not since he hit puberty at least. He has foggy not so there memories of his mom dragging him to dive bars just like this before he had a hard and fast grip on the english language. But the moment she was gone it was only grandpa who would ruffle his hair or sing him praise. Teachers thought he was a menace, his bosses thought he was piece of work. All of the attention kinda made the underside of his skin itch.

“You both know I’m right here? It’s not like I can’t say my own piece.” Yuri folded his arms and gave Victor a cool hard stare. He doubts Chris would really say anything about his ‘customer service attitude’, especially since Victor still had a smile on his face and glittering eyes.  
  
“ _Russia, Yes?_ ” He had a lilt to his voice that was almost playful, like simply speaking another language meant they had a little secret. Yuri could only squint at him in return.  
  
“If I am?” Yuri responded in english and Victor sipped his drink with a smile.  
  
“ _You just look like it! It’s nothing important, really. It’s behind us now, yes_ ?” Victor kept speaking in Russian, he spoke slowly like he knew Yuri was out of practice. “ _It might be nice to talk about sometime._ ” The whole thing just seemed a little too cryptic.  
  
“Victor was brand new to the country when we first met. So fresh faced and young too, I was so smitten,” Yuri wanted out of this conversation. The last thing he needed was to watch these old men flirt with memories of their former selves.  
  
“I would’ve gone on a date with you if it didn’t always come with a pricetag, Chris.”

“You’re awful to me, Victor.” Chris smiled as he said it, so you know he didn’t believe it at all. “What did you mean _You have a Yuri too_ anyways?” Chris asked, and Victor's mouth grew to an almost ear to ear smile.  
  
“I have an _intern_ , and he’s just the sweetest thing, oh my god. He got so champagne drunk on our first wedding gig and clung on to me the entire time. I’ve never seen someone get _cuter_ drunk, Chris.” If Victor had stars in his eyes before, now they were entire solar systems. “And he keeps playing coy like it never happened. He’s too much!” Victor was cupping  his face in his hands, and Yuri could almost feel bile in the back of his throat. Where did this grown ass man get off acting like a fucking love sick school girl. Chris of course fed his ego.  
  
“Going to plan your _own_ wedding this time.” There was something almost sad to Chris’s smile. Yuri blinked and it was gone. Maybe he was just imagining it?  
  
Victor bit his lip and grinned into his drink. Chris placed a hand on his shoulder.  Yuri didn’t get it. He felt like he walked in on something he shouldn’t have. The bile stayed hot in his throat.

* * *

  
“You’re popular round here.”  Yuri mused to Chris. They were getting ready to close, but Yuri was mostly wiping lazy circles on the counter. He was happy it was just him and Chris, he had met so many people today. He had run a social marathon and he couldn’t remember anyone’s name except for obnoxious hag Mila and dopey geezer Victor. A myriad of art students came and went and it made Yuri a little nostalgic. He didn’t even survive a semester and he didn’t even have _friends_ like any of the kids that dropped by here, too loud and lively despite their looming deadlines.  
  
“I just attract a type.” Chris winked and him and Yuri was getting so numb to it, it made his skin crawl less and less.  
  
“Bar of misfit toys?” Yuri snorted and continued his cleaning the same spot that was easily more than spotless at this point.  
  
“That’d be a cute name, you should help Mila and I rebrand.”  
  
“Only for a bonus. I need new clothes so bad.”  Yuri said it casually, but the money issue was really weighing down on him. Life was fucking expensive and Yuri wasn’t the type to work to the bone just to survive. He had way too much on his mind to deal with, and it wasn’t like at home where he could pour himself into dance for hours to unwind his tight coil of energy. And he couldn’t smear up on cheap lip gloss and make older boys by him drinks if dancing wasn’t enough. Yuri was attempting to be sentimental, and all he could hear was Victor’s voice in the back of his head.  
  
_I would’ve gone on a date with you if it didn’t come with price tag._

Yuri was dragged out of his journey down this rabbit hole of _Probably The Worst Ideas Ever_ by the shrill creaking of the bar door.  
  
“Sorry champ, we’re closing.” Yuri tried his best to keep the bite out of his voice, but he couldn’t look up. He felt caught, like he was in highschool again holding an empty beer can from grandpa’s basement.  
  
“I’m just here to fix stuff.” The stranger's eyes thinned. Yuri still stared at this too clean bar, but he could _feel_ this his eyes on him. “You’re new.” Did everyone here like to point out the obvious?  
  
“Has no one ever moved here before? You people make me feel like an albino.” Yuri scoffed and folded his face into forced frown as he dared to look up at this guy. He had a stare that hit Yuri so hard it felt like it’d bruise. It wasn’t uncomfortable.  
  
“There’s my golden boy, how are you Otabek!” Chris walked in from the back, vibrant as always. “Did you come straight from work, you look exhausted.” Chris walked over to him, and took him in a sterile far too formal hug. At least for Chris. “I see you’ve met Yuri, he took my spare. Maybe I can start paying you for your work.” He laughed, but it was easy to read the guilt in the slope of his brows.  Otabek rested a gloved hand on Chris’s shoulder. He had fingerless gloves that should really be lame, but Yuri can’t help but find them cool.  
  
“It’s fine, Giacometti. You know that. All I need is a whiskey neat.” His voice was firm and secure in a way that caught Yuri almost off guard. The words lay flat into Yuri, and he could only watch him roll up the sleeve of his button down as the clinking of bottles echoed cacophonously in his own personal silence.  
  
“No swill, Chris.”  
  
Chris took his hands off the well whiskey like it burned him. Yuri had no idea what it was, the label was completely worn off.  
  
“I guess it’s the least of I can do, huh Beka?” Chris stated, voice a little distant as he grazed over the back of the bar settling on a bottle of red label.

Otabek was so different from anyone else Yuri had met so far. He didn’t prod or pry or feel the need to make petty small talk. He didn’t honestly hear much out of Otabek aside from a few frustrated grunts that were only meant for the sink. Yuri could also feel him glance at him every so often. It made his palms sweaty, he kinda wanted to scream at him. But he couldn’t find his voice. He wasn’t sure he wanted too.  
  
Yuri shuffled around cleaning with Chris until it devolved to them just sitting at the bar watching Otabek work. Chris got Yuri a drink, apparently a ‘tradition’ to unwind once the bar was finally closed. Yuri nursed plain vodka on the rocks while Chris meticulously crafted himself a perfectly measured old fashioned. Yuri watched Otabek with rapt fascination that he was a little shameful of. He was so focused in what he was doing, every move was so precise. It kind of reminded of Yuri of dancing. To throw yourself into something you can see results of. Fixing a sink may not be art, but Yuri couldn’t help but appreciate every strong, purposeful movement and the concentration Otabek devoted to it.

Eventually Otabek rose, brushing his hands on his pants before taking a swig from his own neglected glass. Yuri couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the muscles in Otabek’s throat, and that his sleeves were still rolled up.  Yuri’s mouth felt a bit dry, but it made the vodka all the more refreshing.

  
“It’s all set Chris. I promise one of these days I’ll stop by when you’re actually open.” Otabek’s face never changed. He looked like he was far too hard on....something. He turned to Yuri, who instinctively gulped.  
  
“It was nice meeting you, Yuri. I’ll see you around.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Otabek drained his glass, rolled down his sleeves and closed the door gently behind him. Chris looked like the cat that ate the canary.  
  
“Your type?” Chris’s tone was almost lyrical, it made Yuri clench his fists  
  
“Shut up.”

* * *

  
Yuri was twisted up in the sheet that was the only thing that separated him from the silky-scratchy texture texture of the old mattress.  
  
He let one hand dangle, stretching out his arm to feel the uneven texture of the floor. The light on his phone felt blinding in the oppressive darkness in his room, even on its dimmest setting. The simple google search of ‘how to escort’ burning into his eyes, and made his stomach feel heavy. He felt so nauseous he had to sit up. Even in the dark, Yuri could make out his meager possessions. His backpack that had a few personal things, right on the floor between his clean clothes pile and his dirt clothes pile. This wasn’t going to work. He needed money.  
  
He didn’t have a contact for drugs to sell down here. In all honesty, Yuri didn’t even want to. Despite how gross Christophe could be, Yuri would be mortified if he got in trouble and Chris would have to bail him out. He didn’t want to spit on his good will, so nothing _terribly_ illegal would fly. So drugs and lifting were out. Street walking was probably also hard no. But there wasn’t anything wrong with just selling his _time_ right...?

Yuri flopped back down on his bed, None of this sat super well with him. But he literally couldn’t sit well with his one folding chair and mattress on the floor. He ran his finger over and over on the small wood splinter on the floorboard. The sensation of the sharp wood on the pads of his fingers wasn’t nearly as painful than typing out this bullshit profile and trying to find decent photos of himself that don’t show too much of his face. God he wanted a smoke. Chris and him killed his pack earlier. He just dropped his phone roughly on his mattress so he could ball up his fists and rub his eyes.

His phone chimed, and a lump in his throat forms. He heads the message again and again, until there he was absolutely sure he understood it and it was _real_. He scrambled up to ask Chris if he could get off work early tomorrow, frantically typing back before he could bitch out on this.

* * *

Yuri's first date was, no joke, at a fucking wake. When he was told to wear formal wear he foolishly got his hopes up that he’d be going to a nice restaurant. He even allowed himself the pleasure of thinking he met get to go _dancing_. But instead he was in a middle aged woman's Jeep Grand Cherokee in a funeral home parking lot. This lady fed him all the lies he had to remember to keep his story straight as she applied chalky eyeliner. Yuri was already regretting this.

It ended up being painless. Awkward. Unpleasant for sure. But no one really cared who he was, other than the new young thing some aunt had on her arm as a conversation piece. As a small way to say that she’s doing okay.  Yuri realized how inherently pathetic it was, but this was kind of the name of the game. He only spend a little over an hour with the woman, and had no hesitation in turning her down when she asked if he wanted to sleep over. The drive back to the 7-11 (Yuri was new at this, but he knew better than to give strangers his address) was painfully quiet, not even the soft sounds of the radio to cut through the tension. She was clearly upset, but Chris had been texting Yuri pictures of his old cat and that was easily more interesting than the angry folds of this stranger's face. Yuri got her name at one point, but it was irrelevant now, he wasn’t shooting the shit with uncle Patrick so he didn’t need to really need to retain...Karens? Name for memory.  
  
She made a big deal of sighing as she pulled out 2 crisp bills for Yuri. She honestly looked legitimately sad.  
  
“I’ll message you if I need you again.” If he needed to play arm candy to keep up the charade. It was awful this was a _need_ for her. Like food, or water. Yuri simply nodded, still giving most of his attention to texting Chris as he climbed out of her car. She waited a bit before driving away.

Yuri had a lot to unpack. He wasn’t sure how he felt about any of his choices tonight. The money felt too smooth in his hand, but Yuri couldn’t help but rub his fingers over the bills. There was only one thing that he knew he felt for sure, that he couldn’t wait to see Chris’s face when he came home with a pack of Virginia Slims, just like he likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is taking me a lot longer than I thought! I'm waffling a lot on what feels /right/ to me. Thank you so much for bearing with me! As I said, this is a very personal piece to me about my new home and how it's changed me. I hope you enjoy this trip to Manchester as much as I have!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [@voxane](http://www.voxane.tumblr.com)! I'm trying to use it more and be a more 'active' member in fandom so let me follow you!


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